


Tears Of The Spider

by Nexhus



Category: Joker (2019)
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Blood and Injury, Bully, Burning, Childhood Trauma, Delusions, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, Gotham, Hearing Voices, Homosexuality, Laughter, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Medication, Mental Illness, More tags as I go, My First Fanfic, One-Sided Attraction, Pain, Past Memories, Pining, Racism, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Swearing, Tears, Ugly Feelings, Violence, anger management issues, burn - Freeform, kiss, mentions of vomit, pseudobulbar effect, referenced abuse, relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:27:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24916843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nexhus/pseuds/Nexhus
Summary: Conner used to be Arthur's biggest bully.Now he's in his thirties, single and painfully aware of the guilt that eats at him. He took his self-hatred out on the awkward guy, wanting to hide his insecurities behind the shield of the 'big bad wolf' facade. And he thinks he'll live the rest of his life, carrying that pain, until he sees Arthur during a meeting at the therapist's office, just before being told that he'll no longer be able to get his medication funded.Conner decides to show up where he remembers Arthur's mum lived, to see if he could somehow get back into the man's life. And this is where his life slowly starts spinning into a tale of twists, turns and bumpy roads.
Relationships: Arthur Fleck/OC, Arthur Fleck/Original Male Characte(s), Joker (DCU)/Original Male Character(s), Joker/OC
Comments: 12
Kudos: 53





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo! This is my very first fanfic (the third attempt at it, anyway. The other two will forever be left in obscurity of my memory, but alas). 
> 
> I love some of the fanfics I've read here, especially ones that watch the transition from early-movie Arthur, and forward. I decided, however, that I wanted this specific fanfic to have a.. Darker trail.
> 
> Instead of the OC immediately being nice to Arthur, I wanted someone with a messy past, personality and a flawed sense of self. The relationship will be messy, ugly and probably make me question the morality of my own OC a few times. But hey, it'll be fun, I think.
> 
> Anyway! I hope you enjoy this tale. Do beware that this fanfic will be a slow build, so if you expect immediate smut.. Well don't look here, lol. It'll take a while. There'll be teases spread throughout. Yeah.
> 
> And yes, Im horribly nervous. Like, stupidly mega ultra nervous. So don't kill me if I derp this attempt at a fanfic. xD Also, English is NOT my first language, but I feel like the spelling errors shouldn't be TOO frequent. But yeah. I need a little slack cut, lol.
> 
> Enjoy!

He had been one of Arthur's many bullies. He had thrown old food at him, had called him names, faked his laughter while throwing obvious mocking expressions his way.

He had done worse things as well, but the thought of it made his stomach tie itself in a guilty knot, so instead he settled on drinking his half-fizzled beer and push aside the thoughts for now. Fuck, it felt like ages ago, but it still cut at him with its rusty voice; _You are a piece of shit, Conner, a real piece of glorified shit._

“ _And remember: That's life! _” played out on the telly, making Conner frown. It sounded horribly corny, but for some inexplicable reason, Arthur and everyone else thought it was some brilliant life-blowing statement. Shrugging aside his annoyance, he forced himself off the wonky couch, wooden floorboards shifting with pained moans at the sudden weight.__

____

“Arthu- Oh right. Old memories.” He sighed heavily, wafting away the old memories that had painted the young Arthur on the floor, staring at the face that was Murray. As if the comedian was some kind of God on earth. It pissed him right off, even now. 

____

But now Conner was alone again, just surrounded by meaningless rabbles of daily life, his apartment so quiet it made his head hurt softly. The noise helped tune out his brain's unwanted thrashing, fingers moving to turn the knob of the television; voices blaring loud, and yet he still had no clue what they were talking about. Never wanted to really listen to it.

____

He ignored the soon-arriving knocks against the wall. He knew his neighbor wanted him to turn the sound down, but Conner just cursed the old fool in his mind, knowing he was in his full rights to have it as loud as he wanted, until 10 o'clock in the evening. It was barely 9 in the morning, so hell if he was gonna listen to the old fool's knock-based demands.

____

“Fuck off, Archival, you ol' cunt!” A roar spurred from Conner's lips, before he could stop himself, a lion's hungry frown on his face. He could feel his heart starting to pound in his chest, as it always did when he let out his inner demon – the rage and temperament crashing heavy like tsunami waves. 

____

He waited pointedly, eyes narrowed as they dared the wall to vibrate with the force of fists pounding from the other side. But it never came, and as five minutes had passed, Conner sighed out his previous fight-reflex. Damn. He decided on taking an extra pill later, just to make sure his rage didn't get him into any actual trouble later on; didn't wanna risk losing his job because some uppity bitch's one too many complaints. 

____

Just before he snatched the keys from the counter, he noted the bright yellow pad next to them, chicken scratches reminding him of his appointment today. Right. He only went there once a month, but still, it was important. He was starting to gain resistance to his meds anyway, so he'd just make sure to ask for a raise.

____

And if the lady said no, he'd threaten her, as he did every time that happened. It made her quick to forfeit to his wish, seeing she didn't want to release a possibly dangerous man into already scum-filled streets.  
_Gotham is no place for a guy with a temperament management issue_ , he always imagined she wanted to say, when she noted down the increase on her murky white paper with that telling frown on her lips.

____

_Fuck Gotham_ , he sneered, before rushing out the door towards another day of work and ass-kissing.

____

** **

____

Conner shifted against the water dispenser, hand repeatedly slapping its side, as he waited for the plastic cup to fill up. Damn thing was so slow, it made him wanna scream, but for now he settled for having his palm end up prickly and heated with every smack. 

____

“Come on, you stupid piece of gar-” He was cut off his own whispering rant as the door slammed open, a brooding tall figure moving quickly past Conner on the hallway. 

____

Conner's entire body tensed, gaze wide with thought, as his brain body-slammed itself into a million thoughts- he was drowning in his own mind, even if only for a few seconds.

____

No way that had been Arthur. It looked like him, with a few more wrinkles to be fair, but there was no fucking way. Arthur's flashes of dominant anger were so rare, and so quick to dissipate, Conner barely knew if they had been real or just something his own mind had made up, to give his old 'enemy' an edge. 

____

“Conner.”

____

He snapped out of it, realizing his name had been called a few times by the therapist, her face scrunched with a sharp observation. Shit.

____

“Right, sorry there doc. Just thought I saw an old... Friend.” He smacked his own temple with the ball of his palm, savoring the short lived pain, as it let him clear his mind just enough to fully return to reality. Moving, he settled on the chair that smelled of nicotine and bad dreams. 

____

He hated that smell. It reminded him of old times.

____

“So why'd you call me in, doc? It's only been two weeks.” Conner asked, his voice gaining its usual edge, as seconds passed by and the memory of the tall man faded into obscurity. 

____

His therapist sighed heavily, leaning on the desk with a glint of just being damn well done with the day in her eyes. It made him shift. He didn't like that look; it never brought anything good with it.

____

“Bad news, Conner..” She began, only to flinch, gaze dropping to Conner's lap.

____

He hadn't realized, but his hand had instinctively clutched, the water now spilled all over his legs, making it look like he pissed himself. But honestly he didn't give a shit- he could tell that he was about to have a much worse day than a water related accident could provide.

____

“...” She waited a few seconds, but decided to continue, rather than even offer a tissue. _Selfish cunt._ “They cut our funding. Closing down our offices next week.”

____

Conner couldn't help it. He just couldn't. He wondered if the guy before had gotten the exact same news, line for damn line repeated. He could tell that her voice had been like a monotone repeat, so tired of uttering the same words over and over, that at this point she didn't even care if her patients.. Ex-patients noticed.

____

“This is bullshit. I can't afford the pills, you know that, doc. The fuck am I supposed to do?” He uttered, a soft chuckle of deep-seething vitriol spilling. One hand quickly moved to clutch his bicep, squeezing so hard it hurt. So hard that he could focus on not letting the anger gain any more control. 

____

“... I'm sorry.”

____

Even that line felt rehearsed and overused. And it was a miracle that Conner didn't lash out, and watch her choke, choke, choke on those goddamn repeats. He wondered if she'd still say sorry, still mutter that incessant rehearsal of words. 

____

“Conner?” She tried to look like she was worried for him, but they both knew it was for herself. Her safety.

____

“Right. Sure. Just stop giving pills to the guy with anger issues. Great fucking idea.” He sneered, lifting from the chair, unable to stop his foot from giving it a rough kick.  
.. The chair fell to the side, making his lips twitch. The little outburst helped.. Just enough to keep him from turning around and punching his therapist's teeth out.

____

Before he could hear her most likely often given reply, he stormed out. Still feeling the cooling moisture of water on his pants, ignoring the looks he got. He didn't care that they thought he'd pissed himself; not like he'd ever see them again.  
Especially now that the program had been cut.

____

** **

____

He couldn't get the image out of his head. That split second of a silhouette, face carved into a deep scowl, as if ready to blow apart the world with a simple push of a button. The pure danger that rolled off the dark expression, still managing to force goosebumps along the flesh of Conner's arms.  
Fucking scary, that's what it had been. Still was.

____

Had it really been Arthur, the awkward leaf of a teen he'd known back before Conner had moved out of his parents' place? It sure had looked like him, but with a mixture of wilderness and cold calculation that fit nowhere in the memories he still held of the old bully-target. Like Arthur, and yet, nothing like him at all.

____

“Shit. I'm getting obsessed.” Conner sneered at himself, hands moving to pull out a pill, soon feeling a knot in his stomach. There were barely three left, and there was no way he could get more without resorting to robbery.  
And as much as the idea wasn't too far-fetched, he knew it'd only be a matter of time until he'd have to do it again. And again.

____

No. He'd need something a bit more permanent, securing a long-life steady supply. And he just couldn't afford that; not even if he sold the telly and his dusty guitar. It'd give him a couple months worth of supply, but only if he cut down his intake by half. 

____

He'd rather just go cold turkey and be over with it, to be honest, which is why he was soon watching the white and blue pills swirl around in taunting circles. It took him a few seconds to get his mind determined enough, but at last he pressed down, the loud noise of the toilet flushing making him grit his teeth. A thought from before the meeting repeated itself vividly; Fuck Gotham.

____

** **

____

_Why the fuck are you here? Turn around, go home, eat a shit-steak with shittier potatoes and just wank one off. Don't humiliate yourself like this, you stupid asshole. It's barely been a week; you're still adjusting to the lack of medication!_

____

Conner stared at the door like it was a goddamn candy factory, and he was drooling kid, just waiting for the ability to fatten up and lose a handful teeth to sugar-rot. There was no way Arthur still lived with his weird ass mom, at 30-something, like some kind of loser. 

____

_Not like you're doing much better, you twat. You're 34 and still can't hold down a job that pays a decent wage. Don't even got a partner. Anger issues. Vivid hallucinations. Probably a shit-ton other things the therapist didn't care to inform you on._

____

“Shut up.” 

____

The words came out with a heavy growl, and made a nearby woman stare at him in confusion, thinking he was talking to her. He just shook his head, the woman soon gone into a nearby apartment, clearly unwilling to even confront Conner on his outburst.

____

**Knock knock. Knock.**

____

… No answer after a few seconds, and still feeling all kinds of fucked up from the lack of pills, he tried again. Much more aggressively this time.

____

**KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK--**

____

The door swung open suddenly, almost causing Conner to lose his balance, but it was the face that greeted him that made his lungs fold in on themselves with a sharp breath. Holy shit, he really was here, after all these years.

____

“S-sorry, can I help you?” The meek voice came, clearly startled and.. Scared. 

____

Well, Conner did just violate his door quite roughly, so there was no point in calling him out for feeling worried. Especially in Gotham. _Fucking Gotham._

____

“Arthur?” He thought for a second, quickly adding; “Fleck. You him?” He asked, even if he already knew. Yeah. This time Arthur looked like his young self, if a bit messy and wrinkled, but honestly it added something.. Beautiful to his appearance. A rough but intriguing edge that his younger self had lacked.

____

“Y-yeah. Why?” Arthur seemed much more guarded now, as if he was being accused of a crime, eyes flicking back and forth with little flickers of anxiety bubbling up. It made Conner's lips twitch at the edges. He almost wanted to fuck with him, to see if it'd make him laugh.

____

_Down boy. You didn't seek him out after this long, just to revert back into asshole-mode._

____

“... It's, uh. It's been a long time.” 

____

He realized pretty fast that he'd have to be a bit more obvious. Arthur clearly didn't recognize him, and Conner had to accept it was to be expected. Sure, he would certainly have been rememberable to Arthur, being one of his biggest bullies back in the day- But unlike Arthur, Conner had changed a whole damn lot since then.

____

He used to be a fat little fuck. Long greasy hair, ugly leather jacket, a smile that spoke of fake confidence translated through pranks and stupid bullying. He was trying to hide the real shit hiding in his brain with those acts. Growing up in a traditional household, being gay was looking down on, and Conner always thought he'd just have to beat up a few nerds to change himself. 

____

Of course, it'd never worked.

____

But now Conner had spent too much of his life being only sustained on smokes, pills and the occasional microwave-heated five-dollar meal. So at this point he was pretty slim, his skin showing wear-and-tear through scarring and deep-set wrinkling. Short black hair, curled and ruffled at the top, fading into a skin-short cut around the ears. A soft five o'clock shadow along his somewhat sharp jaw. Some gray strikes riddled all over, giving him a salt-and-pepper kinda look. Dark gray eyes surrounded by thick lines, and a medium-dark skin tone that made people think he wasn't white or black. Just some kind of weird in-between. 

____

Racist assholes had too often nicknamed him 'Mulatto'. 

____

Never Arthur though. No matter what Conner had done to the man, he hadn't shown even the notion of hurling a race-based comeback. It only made his guilt that much more heavy- having hurt this man, just because he had (unintentionally AND unknowingly) made Conner realize his “sinful” sexuality.

____

With a sharp cough, he finally took a breath, the next mutter of word sure to spring realization to Arthur's mind. 

____

“Conner.” 

____

He could practically feel the fear sweeping into Arthur's expression, his body, as it began to shook. He knew it was coming, and soon, raw laughter of painful memories and anxiety filled the hallway. Arthur tried to close the door, as if to shield himself from the memories, but Conner was a bit too fast and took hold of the edge; strong fingers pushing the door back open just a smidgen. Letting Conner peek through, with a mixed expression of guilt and apology. 

____

“Shit, Arthur, wait. Don't close the door, I'm not gonna hurt you.” _Anymore._

____

He couldn't blame the flash of hesitant suspicion that Arthur showed him, or the fact that the man was still trying to pull the door closed. Or the shiver in his voice, as he meekly asked Conner to 'please leave'. 

____

“Just five minutes, Arthur. I swear I'll leave after that.” He tried again, hoping his voice didn't sound as desperate as he felt. This wasn't going to be easy, he knew that, but it still surprised him how heavy his heart felt, once he noted Arthur's bright green eyes and the thick haze of pain in them.

____

Yeah, he remembered their past, just as vividly as Conner. If not more.

____

“... Five minutes.” Arthur quickly turned his head, shouting to his mum that he'd be back in just a moment. Conner didn't catch the reply, but honestly, he didn't care about the old croon. He just wanted to talk to Arthur.

____

Arthur shuffled out a bit, making Conner retreat just a step, watching the lanky fella lean against the door; still keeping it just barely open, so he could flee if need be. It made Conner sigh mentally, but once again, he couldn't fault the damn guy.

____

Though he had to be honest, it did prickle his nerves that Arthur was taller now, even if only by three inches. Lucky fuck. Standing here, looking up at a man he had used to dwarf to the ground, was a sting to his pride. 

____

_He's even skinnier than before, too. Like a single leaf in a barren field._

____

Conner flinched when he noticed that Arthur was staring at him, patiently, but also a bit worried. It was an awkward silence, and the tension of previous scuffles had an iron grip on them both. So it was quite the miracle that Conner managed to kick himself mentally, and sputter out his next sentence.

____

“I'm sorry.” 

____

Well okay then. He hadn't expected to apologize immediately, but something about those intense green doe eyes had forced it out of him. And now he stood here, like an idiot, staring a hole into the ground with flames of embarrassment licking his cheek into raw burns.

____

“.. Really?” Arthur asked, clearly not ready to believe that Conner, or anyone, would apologize to him. For anything. The pure disbelief on Arthy's face made Conner's own face scrunch with enforced guilt. Shit, had no one been nice to the tall fuck after they'd parted ways?

____

“Yeah.. I took my own problems out on you. Wasn't fair.” He murmured, voice weakening a bit, as his shoe-tip scratched the floor with repeated small kicks. He felt like a kid again, awkward and weird and just. Not right. “I'm sorry, Arthur. I was a shithead.” 

____

The silence returned, and for a moment, Conner was fighting the need to run away like a kid caught stealing the porn mag from his daddy's closet. But Arthur beat his mind into silence with a simple word, quiet and broken with an emotion Conner couldn't decipher as anything other than pure 'agonized appreciation'. 

____

“... Thanks.”

____

Conner's lips fell apart, but no words slipped out. Arthur had closed the door, back inside, and left Conner conflicted and alone. He wanted so badly to knock the door again, burst in, and take the other man in a hug of apology. He knew he'd heard Arthur's voice being seconds from breaking into sobs, and yet, here he was. 

____

Left outside, where he couldn't do shit, other than wonder if he should have just stayed the fuck away. Just before his fist hit the door, he stopped, his mind gnawing. No. He had to respect Arthur's decision- otherwise he'd just turn out to be just as big of a shit as before. He couldn't do that to Arthy, or himself.

____

“... If you want to talk.” It came from Conner, as he scribbled his number on a torn yellow page from his pad, before sliding it under the door. His voice raised so Arthy had a chance of hearing it.  
But, of course, he also noted his name in the corner. Just in case.

____

“.. Later.” He whispered, this time more for his own sake, than Arthy's. Leaving the place to settle at home on his stinky couch, stare at uninteresting war movies on the telly, and drown his own brain in beer. Maybe violate his lungs with a dozen or two smokes, so his throat would feel absolutely raw the next day, in order to distract his brain when the next morning came.

____

** **

____


	2. Home Is Not Where His Heart Is

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied, and posted this immediately. I just couldn't wait, but don't get used to this. I just didn't wanna hang onto this chapter even for a second haha. Also WHOOPS; I posted the second chapter, not realizing I had accidentally pasted too little of it. So here's the real one, with all the content I had intended, lmao.
> 
> Enjoy a bad idea, phone-chats and family tension. 
> 
> Cheers. c:
> 
> Edit: For some reason the site is being weiiiird, and the end notes for the first chapter shows under the second. Tried to fix it, but can't figure out how, so.. Yeah. That's fun, lol.

** **

It had been a over a week. And Arthur still hadn't called.

“.. Maybe he doesn't have a phone.” Conner muttered, fingers brushing the squares with little numbers on them, from 0 to 9. But he knew that wasn't it- everyone and their mother had a fucking phone these days. 

_He's not gonna call his former bully, you fucking idiot. Even if you did ass out a 'sorry', it doesn't do shit about the fact you used to torment the guy. Get over yourself._

He sneered, biting into the soft flesh of his thumb so hard that it began to pound with ache, yet he only kept going. Kept pressing until his teeth cut through the skin, and left it parting, little bubbles of crimson soon filling past his lips. The iron taste was sharp, made the corner of his eyes crinkle with displease, but he didn't care. Right now his mind was too busy kicking itself, over and over, for him to take real note of the pain.

He was so close to letting it snap, throwing random items across the floor in an attempt to let off the steam that had been building with every day spent waiting, that the sudden 'briiiiiiiing' of the phone almost made him fall off the couch with a shocked flinch. 

“Shit-fuck!” He roared loudly, leaning forward with a quick grasp of the phone, lifting the sorta-heavy object to his ear; his breathing had become irregular and pent-up, but he didn't notice because of his heart's vivid attempt at jumping out through his throat. 

“Y-yes?” He muttered, the waiting painful, as he knew exactly who he hoped it was. Arthur... Maybe he had finally thought about giving Conner a chance to.. Become acquaintances. Or friends, even, in the long run. Despite their murky past and troubled memories.

“Do you need a new vacuum clean-” 

**THUD!**

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME, YOU ASSHOLE?!” 

It took half an hour, and a visit from the police as the neighbors had reported a loud disturbance, for Conner to calm down from seeing red and thrashing anything in his apartment that wasn't the telly, phone or guitar. Shatters of wood and broken plates lay on the floor, and it was a miracle he didn't step on one during his tantrum. 

“Yeah yeah. I promise to keep it down.” He promised halfheartedly, wafting away the cops from his doorstep

Conner almost slammed the door shut once they left, but instead opted to offer a very strained smile, and a silent 'fucking pigs', as the door clicked shut. Groaning, he turned to look at the disaster zone that was his living room, before kicking himself into gear and clean it up. 

“At least I didn't kill nobody.” He muttered as glass shards were swept into a double-layered bag, his heart slowly reducing its intense bumps, as the anger was finally starting to really fade.  
“.. This time.”

** **

 _Go home. Don't descend into stalker territory, you sick fuck._

Conner quickly flips off his inner voice with a few knocks on the dusty door. He knew for a fact Arthur wasn't home, had waited quite impatiently for the man to hurry out, before moving forward with the plan. 

He'd just give Arthy's mum a few smiles, a little white lie, and snake a few stories from her about his old ''buddy''. No big. He could play nice, even if it made something inside him grit its teeth with annoyance.  
Faking emotions. He didn't like it.

“Yes..?” The old croon spoke, her voice soft and yet somehow judgmental at the same time. It cut at him like a rusty knife, but instead of faltering, he simply leaned forward with a carefully strung hum and smile. 

“Penny, right? Sorry to disturb, but I'm an old.. Friend of Arthur's. Thought I'd ask him how he's been and all that.”

He sounded way more convincing than he'd expected. Thankfully so, since Penny still seemed a bit hesitant, before offering a weak nod and opening the door a bit. 

“Happy's not here right now, but you can wait inside. He shouldn't be too long.” She stepped aside, and Conner happily took the invitation, sneaking past the hallway with the woman, waiting to sit on the couch until she settled on a chair he imagined was dedicated to her alone. 

On the way in, however, he couldn't help but wonder if Arthy's mum was a little nuts. Arthur had almost never looked happy. 

_Or maybe that's because you never let him be happy when you were there, fuckface._

He flinched softly, shaking his head at Penny's question about coffee. Just a quick 'no thanks', and Penny seemed to be entirely distracted by the television- the riots portrayed for the hundredth damn time. And then a bit of talk about the party at Wayne Manor that was scheduled to occur soon.

“He'll do great things for this city, I just know it.”

Conner blinked, surprised by the sudden talk, as he felt an instinctive tilt of his head beam with genuine curiosity. Clearly Penny caught on, as she clarified quickly; “Thomas Wayne. He'll be the one to clean up this horrible place.”

A soft 'oh' shaped his lips, gaze falling back to the television. Conner had never been a political man, and he felt his inner voice huff in disdain. The guy literally called the poor 'clowns'- how much good could a person like that do, when he so clearly had had a silver spoon shoved up his ass from birth? Dude had never known the struggles of the poor. No way in hell would he know how to help get them past said issues.

“Sure.” He just conceded, not wanting to fight with the woman, as his plan would fall apart if she got annoyed with him. So instead he settled for leaning back a bit, feel the couch brush the fabric of his purple tee. “But uhm.. So Arthur still lives with you, huh? I'm surprised.”

Penny snapped her head to look at Conner, and immediately he regretted his choice of words. He hadn't meant to sound condescending, but clearly Penny had taken it at such, her wrinkly lip only growing deeper with lines of unhappiness. Even if it soon faded back into a nonchalant expression.

“Happy's just a sweet boy. He takes care of me. I taught him to be a good man. Too good for this city.”

He shifted a bit, having to agree. Arthur was so damn sweet, and genuine, it made him wanna do things to him. He wanted to strangle and kiss the man at the same tim- _Woah boy._ That spiraled fast, he spat mentally, slapping his thigh to stop the train of thought.  
_Not now_ , he hissed at himself, gaze flickering with determination.

“Yeah, he was a nice kid back then too. But how is he doing lately?” He mused in response, trying his damnedest to sound like he was just slightly curious, and not trying to figure out little things to use in effort to get in with him later. To know what buttons to press, if he wanted a way towards friendship with the other man.

“Oh, he's good. I just wish he'd quit that place at Ha-Ha's. It's just not a stable job. He could do so much better.” 

Conner's brow arched. Well, talk about passive-aggressiveness, he huffed mentally, although not entirely able to ward off his increasing interest. “What does he do, then?” His fingers twitched. Maybe he could check the place out when Arthy wasn't working. For.. Reasons.

“He's a clown. It's silly, but he likes it, or so he says.” Penny seemed too consumed with the news to really care about how Conner would react. Her voice about as exciting as the steady line of a continuously flat-lined body.

Conner? He felt his inner voice laugh hysterically. His jaw was open, almost cracking the floor apart with the weight of disbelief, as he stared at the old croon. A fucking clown? Now that was..

_Somehow it fits him. He laughs all the time anyway, so why not use it for money? Fucking priceless, I say!_

The silence fell back over the apartment, spare the noise from the telly, and the generic mumble of the chaos outside. But it was fine with him, as he took in a deep breath, letting the smells comfort his rampaging mind.

Age-old smoke, crumbling wood and.. Something that was both sharp and muddy. Like paint and dirt mixed all in one. Something about that combination soothed Conner, made him melt a bit deeper against the couch, as he took a second to think about his next question.

He wondered if Arthy's skin would smell like that too. If he'd also spy a little sourness of sweat, and the husky notion of a rough life. Before he could stop himself, he saw Arthur in the living room, dancing in the nude, spindly limbs moving gracefully and yet with a silent power behind them. Face painted into a clown's facade, a smile of beauty carved into and past those thin lips. The green eyes speaking of desire and mystery.

It made Conner lick his lips, the soft meat sliding slowly with need, his half-hooded eyes twitching gently. 

_Nice one, idiot. Get a hard-on right in front of the guy's mother. Let's see if she likes that._

He coughed violently from his inner voice's notion of logic, hands frantically covering over his loose pants, soon moving towards the hallway. “B-Bathroom?” He squeezed out between the throat-clawing coughs, Penny informing him, as he stumbled into the cold area of shower knick-knacks and toiletry. 

As the door clicked shot, he let a few more wheezes of breath squeeze out, before planting his forehead firmly to the door's surface. Eyes squinted so tightly together a few tears forced themselves through, lips drawn back in a moment of self-hatred.

_HAHAH._

He felt a slight discomfort as his inner voice laughed at him with clear mockery and disdain.

_I knew you still had it in for him, you horny fuck. Let's just hope his poor ma' didn't notice yah raging boner._

Conner's fist lightly smacked the door frame, his teeth gritting so hard he thought one might snap. Damned it, he sneered, before leaning away with a heavy self-shackling breath. His eyes finally snapped open, slowly moving downwards until he caught sight of his pants. 

_Can't really go back in with a tent like that, huh, dum-dum?_

He shook his head, agreeing with the voice that always managed to insult him. Despite it being his own. Yeah, he had a few issues, but right now the evidence of a mind slip had to be dealt with. With a growing fear of Arthur's mum becoming worried about his sudden run, he decided on the dumbest, quickest and easiest method.

He imagined Arthur's mum naked.

And just like that, it was gone, his entire body (and mind) doing a long shiver in absolute disgust. Even his usually snappy inner voice was groaning, clearly in pain at what had been forced into his brain. Yuck.

He heard Penny's mumbled voice, took a breath, ensuring the tent was gone for good one last time, before retaking the place on the couch; a timid nod given and a soft smile offered.

“Sorry, miss Penny. I'm good, just a cough.”

Penny shrugged, as if she really didn't give a shit, and just muttered a less than halfhearted 'alright'. Damn, this bitch was coldhearted, he noted within. It made him wonder how on earth she had managed to raise Arthur into the shy and sweet person he had been back then, and seemed to still be now.

As time crept by, and Penny occasionally filled the room with meaningless dribble about the city's condition or Thomas goddamn Wayne, a wiggle of keys and the turning of lock suddenly caught both of their attention.

_He's heeeeere. Time to explain yourself, potato-brain!_

“Did you check the mail, Happy?” Penny shouted out softly, as if it was vitally important.

Arthur replied with a heavy sigh, as if it was painful to say it. “Yes, mum. Nothing. As usual.” 

Conner thought he heard Arthur mumble something else, but he wasn't certain what it was. And honestly, right now, he was so focused on noting Arthur's reaction to his presence, that his lungs were burning.  
He hadn't taken a breath since the sound of the lock.

He saw it the moment Arthur realized; wide eyes, open mouth, a soft breath hitching with surprise. Suddenly the green gaze flicked to Penny, who seemed a bit confused, before Arthur almost.. Tensed with the shortest flicker of anger, before it melted into a depressed annoyance, hidden in a veil of 'courtesy'. Or maybe he just didn't wanna upset Penny.  
Probably the last part.

“Mum, it's late. Shouldn't you be in bed?”

Penny wafted her hand with a soft grumble, but still stood, moving to what Conner bet was her bedroom. “Just wanted to keep your old friend company until you got back, Happy. Now, don't be up too late.” She patted Arthur's arm, and Conner couldn't help but notice the softest of flinches.  
It made his eyes narrow just the tiniest, in suspicion.

“Alright. Sleep tight mum.” Arthur called, shutting the door once he knew Penny was in bed safely. Then he turned his gaze to stare at Conner, whom offered a crooked smile of silent apology in return.

“Sorry, I thought you'd be home. Hope it's not too much trouble that she let me wait here.” He mused, impressed at the way his lie came off as almost genuine. Maybe it had helped to see Arthy's face, even if it seemed.. Much more worn than last time he'd seen him.

Arthur sighed, moved over, and stared right down at him; it took Conner off-guard, his own eyes widening in surprise and intrigue, as he waited for the other man to speak. His hands curved against his own chest, fingers intertwined with little twitches of slight anxiety.

“Why are you here?” Arthur whispered, clearly trying to make sure his mum didn't overhear. The accusation in his voice made Conner flinch, his mind crumbling, as he started to realize how bad of an idea this whole thing had been.

It felt as if Arthur was expecting him to resume their old routine. As if he was waiting for Conner to drop the shoe, and inform him that he was gonna do their old game of 'imma hurt you for no good reason'. 

“..... I thought that just saying sorry wasn't good enough, so I have a proposal.”

This made Arthur's brows rise to the edge of his hairline, almost anyway, wrinkles of suspicion settling all over his expression. Conner's heart was about to leap out of his fucking throat, on the other hand, his mind constantly repeating the same words.

_What the fuck am I doing?_

“... I'll let you hurt me. As payback.” He shifted, his skin growing cold, despite his inability to stop himself now. This was a way to get Arthur into his life, even if he was gonna regret it in a secon- no fuck that. He was regretting it already.

_Stop it, jackass. Just say you were kidding. A really fucking bad joke on your part-_

“As apology.”

The silence was all too intense; crushing on them so hard, Conner thought he'd choke to death right there on the couch, Arthur's gaze too complex to be deciphered.  
_Please_ , he muttered within himself desperately, _say something goddammit._

“Please.” 

It was so soft, Conner wasn't sure if he had imagined it. But soon rough chuckles, the sign of Arthur's mental distress, took hold and he knew it had been there. Because it was soon repeated.

“Please leave.”

Conner knew he had fucked up, silently moving to the door, opening it even, before looking back at the now guffawing Arthur. He could just barely see the tears rolling down the other man's cheeks, and with a hefty bite of his lip, he retreated outside.

_Let him go, Conner. Even now, you're tormenting him. No matter what you do, you'll keep hurting him._

He gave a gentle nod in the cold outside air, staring at the dark starless skies, wondering. Resigning himself to a life without his first crush present. 

“Forgive me, Arthur.” He whispered, noticing how it was raining, despite the evening air being clear of clouds. He even felt the tremors of an earthquake, despite no one else being affected by it. Noted the lack of breath in his throat, for what was a very long time.

_It hurts._

** **

His eyes fluttered open, breath caught dead in his throat, skin cold and clammy with hour-long sweat making everything feel sticky and wrong. 

_A nightmare. Just a nightmare. Calm down._

He felt the puffy air from his lungs grow softer with every exhale, his muscles having been so tense it hurt to relax them, fingers prickling with the rush of blood that crashes into them as they unfurled against the stained white sheets beneath. Fuck, it had been an intense ride, his own cruel adolescent laughter having mixed with Arthur's sobbing raw one.

Guilt kicked him in the stomach, and he had to close his eyes and count to ten, before he could try to relax one more time. It had barely been a single day's time, and yet here he was, getting withdrawal due to his own decision to leave his old crush the fuck alone.

_You fucking twat. You barely know the guy now- even if you spent ages with the man years earlier. Things change. People. Arthur. Not like you have any clue what he's like these days, is it? So get over your guilt disguised as a crush already._

The vicious version of his inner voice was holding nothing back this time, a throbbing headache conjured from its snarling pitch, fingers moving to rub some ease into the bridge of his nose. It wasn't gonna be easy, being at work with those thoughts and a still very present lack of pill-shaped inhibition. He worried that one snarky customer too much would set him off, and he'd be thrown in the slammer for “unprovoked assault”. Or worse, Arkham, that had the reputation of a rotten shoe.

With a grunt, he got up, clothed, and moved for work. He didn't have a bite to eat all day, feeling nauseous, and his mind was too loud to keep his focus on work at any point. He fucked up an order more than once, which gained him the ass-whooping of the month from his boss.

That's why he was quite vividly annoyed when the phone rang, as he had barely dragged his ass inside the apartment, the night barely breaking into its full shape. With a vicious hiss, he almost slammed the phone to his ear, eyes flaring with incredible flames of 'im gonna kill someone at this point'.

“What?” He snapped, the soft breaths from the other end making his brows squint in confused annoyance. A few silent seconds passed, and he would have wondered if the line had been cut, if not for the ragged sound of breaths coming through. 

“Sorry. This was a bad idea. I'll just-” The voice spun into a rabbit hole of coarse coughs, a honey sweet octave swimming behind the hesitant worry of a man scorned once too often. 

“Oh, shit, sorry no.” Conner stumbled over his own words, his brain short cutting for longer than he appreciated, as both men grew back into the comfort of awkward silence. 

_Say something, Conner. Anything._

“... Are you really a clown?” 

_… Seriously? Fuck me sideways, you ginormous moron._

“What?” Arthur broke through the continuous onslaught of Conner's inner voice, clawing his own brain into ribbons of useless blubber and mindless emotions. 

“I meant, Penny said you worked as a clown. Sorry, I'm just...” He trailed off, his hand patting atop his chest, telling his heart to calm the fuck down so he could string together an actually decent sentence. “I'm surprised you called.” 

_No shit, Sherlock._

“I thought.. Well. That you wouldn't.” He murmured, the conversation feeling painfully one-sided, as Arthur kept the tension pent with nothing more than a few hitched breaths, as if he was on just as rocky a roller-coaster of emotion as Conner.  
But there was no way, he thought, shifting with a sinking feeling of turmoil. Arthur was just a bit shy. Just as he'd always been back then.

As Arthur dragged out the veil of silence falling onto their weak connection once more, Conner shifted a hand, pulling forth a pack of Prince, soon lighting one as the smoke curled into his lungs, gripping them tight for just a second, before being released back into the wild air around him.  
It helped soothe his nerves, even if just a little.

“I haven't forgiven you.” It came, silent and yet demanding. Needing to know that he was being heard. His honesty.

“... That's fair.” Conner responded softly. Pained and guilty, yet somehow also relieved.

“I probably never will.” 

“I know.”

“Why do you even care to apologize for it? You never seemed like you'd feel guilty back then. Like you'd stop.”

“.. Because I realized I was projecting my own insecurities. I was using you, so I didn't have to look at myself. My fears and worries.”

And now?” 

“Now..” He took a second, inhaled the dazing effect of tar and nicotine, before continuing. “I know I have faults, and I accept them. I'm not blaming them on anyone else. Not anymore.”

“...”

The silence showed its precarious fangs once more, but only for a few seconds, when Arthur's voice displayed itself in a sudden fit of power and determination.

“.. I might call back later. Might not.” He breathed, a deep exhale, making Conner imagine him with a gently wiggling cigarette between his soft thin lips. He wanted to pluck it from that beautiful mouth, and claim it for himself. 

But for now, he made certain to listen. To focus on the current reality, rather than fantasize about a whimsical need.

“... I.. Yeah. Bye.” 

_Click._

Arthur had hung up, and Conner took a few moments too long to lay down the phone, gaze staring past the wall, into a world of blurry thoughts and curious bumps of heart. There was a hope, even if it was incredibly fickle and easy to break. But..

_It's there. Like a seed just waiting to bloom..._

_God, I hope it does._

He crushed the half-eaten stub of nicotine addiction against the ashtray, watching it crumble under the force with a curious twitch of lips, before planting his entire body against the welcoming embrace of his bed. 

Sleep took over soon, and during the jumbled images of a soft dream, he felt Arthur's name tumble past his lips. More than once.

** **

“It's been too long, Conner. You never visit anymore.” It came from the old woman on the mottled leather chair, her wrinkled fingers just barely steady enough to push needle through fabric. She looked quite at ease, sitting there, judging Conner for his lack of communication.

He scowled softly, nail scratching at the wooden dinner table with a need to eradicate the itch in his veins. “I'm here now, grandma” He mused, watching her brow quirk with its silent 'not because you wanted to be' reply, whilst she continued her needless threading. “Besides, I'm busy. Working.” 

Okay, that was a lie- he had gotten fewer hours after a particularly nasty complication with a real bitch of a customer. A few particular words had been hurled, and just like that, the shop didn't need him as much as before. Didn't want his bursts of irritation around. Or just him, really. One and the same.

For some reason the silence made him feel restless, drowning in a pit of judgmental tar, screaming at his brain and clawing his throat. So to relieve himself of the agony of wallowing in it any longer, he lifted a finger, finding the sensitive spot of his temple to scratch at. His voice meek and slightly airy. “I met Arthur the other day. You know. The kid with the weird laugh.” 

He didn't like characterizing him like that, but he knew it'd be the only way to make his grandma know who he was talking about. It was the only thing people ever seemed to remember about Arthur. His ever-so-painful laugh.

“Oh? That's nice. How is he?” She responded, hands stilled against her lap, as she lifted her sharp gaze to watch Conner squirm in his seat just a few steps across the room. As if she wanted to ignore the heavy indication of their unfriendly relationship by just putting on a strained empathy in her questions. “Is he still.. Well.” 

“Yeah, he still has the condition, grandma. Not really something you can just grow out of.” He responded, leg bouncing as annoyance began to tear at him, his voice a little more snide than he had intended.  
He always hated how people expected a mental condition to just vanish with time. As if it was just some kind of phase.

They did the same thing with homosexuality. Waited for you to just not be it anymore.  
It was no wonder that Conner had lashed out in his youth, always hating himself for not being able to shed a part of him, that he at the time didn't realize was something that'd never go away. 

“ _You'll grow out of it, son. Just remember to pray and find yourself a nice girl to settle with._ ” 

That's never what he had wanted to hear, but it's what he had gotten every single time. A dismissal and a vague 'just dont be it' message. It almost made him chuckle with petty mockery now- the fact that he had believed it at one point.

And that he thought that his homosexuality was something to be ashamed of. 

“He's fine.” He spat out through gritted teeth, head turned away so that his grandma didn't see the pure vitriol squeezing through his carefully placed mask of 'this is fine' nonchalance. Answering the earlier question seemed to defuse the situation, his grandma taking up the invitation to end their weak attempt at a conversation, going right back to her sewing.

He honestly didn't know what she was making; either it was a weird two-holed sock, or a really ugly shirt that was missing the hole meant for the head to squeeze through. No matter which one, it was hopefully not something she expected Conner to accept with a smile.  
He wasn't sure that he could fake appreciation that well.

“I need a smoke, 'ma.” He suddenly noted, pushing back the chair which caused a grating high-pitched noise, not taking the time to acknowledge his grandma's accusation flicker of tightening lips. “It'll kill you, you know.” she'd say, if given the opportunity.

_Just being alive is killing me, grandma._

He didn't go inside after the first smoke was thrown aside, fizzled into the faintest hint of a stub, rather deciding to go for a second. Like a junkie not quite satisfied with the first blow, deciding to try again, just in case the high would be better this time.

“Con-man!” 

Conner lifted his gaze, a genuine smile forming on his lips as he noticed his little brother, always so earnest and proud. He had a glimmer in his eyes, as if he could take on the entire world, and for some reason, it reminded him of Arthur. But without the inner wounds.

“Still stuck on that silly nickname, huh?” He mused, hand raised to ruffle the curly tufts on his brother's head. The kid huffed, trying for a pout, but all too fast cracking into that childish grin of please. It made Conner chuckle inwardly, finding a solace in the way that his brother just never let anything get him down.

“Why not? It's hella lit.” Conner couldn't stop himself doing a soft roll of eyes. His brother had a tendency to get way too corny, trying to sound like a 'cool' kid. And no one could make him stop, it seemed- not for a lack of trying on Conner's part. “Makes you sound like a mafioso. All guns, cigars and bitches” 

His eyes narrowed, lips tightening into a white line, as he flicked his little brother's forehead. “No swearing, Dax. You know that.” Annoyingly, his voice faltered slightly, not sounding as stern as first intended. 

Dax huffed, arms crossing but smile never fading. “You're not dad! Besides, you swore worse than me, from what grandma tells me.” Goddamn old croon never could keep her mouth shut, Conner sneered silently, but just shook his head as he snuffed the cigarette beneath the tip of his shoe.

“Oh, and mentioning dad..” Dax suddenly lost the shine of his smile for just a second, before putting on a strong facade. Much stronger than a kid his age should have to. “He's kind on a warpath, bro. So.. Just try not to fight with him this time, yeah?” He pleaded, those puppy eyes waiting for Conner to concede. 

He really did want to keep the peace at a family dinner for once, but he also knew that if their dad decided to prod about Conner's relationship status, any attempt would flush down the drain. The old idiot still believed that Conner would grow out of his taste for men, and always had to mention 'that one sweet girl from church'. 

He sighed, noticing that Dax was still waiting for a reply, before giving a curt nod. “I'll try, kid. I promise.” He crossed his chest, which only made Dax squint in suspicion as they both know Conner wasn't at all religious, but soon flitted inside with a hopeful chuckle. 

“Said that last time too, bro.” The kid mentioned, stopping just short of passing the door's edge. “You suck at lying.” Conner caught the hint of a tongue shown, before watching Dax disappear back into the apartment. 

“Yeah.. I kinda am.” He conceded to himself with a soft huff, lips twitching at the corners. He couldn't help take another moment to gather himself, before braving the rest of the night, which would certainly end in the usual shouting match and him leaving just before snapping and punching something a little too hard.  
** **


	3. Tension Lay Beneath The Laughter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter three is here! 
> 
> Thank you guys for the kudos. I was genuinely surprised, happily so, since I wasn't sure anyone would even read this. c:
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy this chapter as much as I did writing it. Took me a few attempts, but I think I'm happy with it this time.  
> A bit of genuine conversation, which will lend itself into a much more.. Intense next chapter. 
> 
> Cheers!

** **

Just as expected, the family time had grown sour, once dad had started going down the ' _Sarah is a really nice girl. She's still waiting for you to invite her out, son. Can't you just try for once?_ ', spiral which had instantly made the flame in Conner's heart flare into a beastly roar, his response not quite so.. Refined.

“Try **what** , dad? Try not to be a little faggot, huh? Is that what you want to say? That I should try to be” He had lifted both hands, doing the air-quotes with two fingers each. “Normal.”

And the situation had just spiraled down from there, until he had noticed Dax in the corner, barely able to fight back tears. He hated seeing his little brother so defeated, so beaten, so Conner had conceded the battle and left. Just as he always did.

Dax was the only reason that he hadn't punched his father in his fat snout already. 

Conner sighed out loud, hands barely able to press the key into the hole, and unlock the door to his apartment. He just wanted to shed his clothes, take a shower and drown in the sheets of his bed. He could barely muster keeping his eyes open, exhaustion taking him the very second he get back home, overwhelmed slightly by the familiar scent of dust and bad habits.

“Right, gotta check for messages.” He muttered softly, throwing aside his jacket, before pressing the button on the phone that would play out any messages caught throughout the time of his absence. 

_Beeep.. First. Message._

The scratchy noise of a mechanical voice made him shudder, a slight distaste for the very tone of it, as it almost felt too dehumanized. A hand grasped a mug from the shelf ahead, getting ready to prepare some barely-drinkable coffee for the night. 

“Hey..” 

He stopped, hand outstretched in the air, his entire body slammed into a quiet wait as he immediately understood who the voice belonged to.

_Arthur._

“... I was hoping to come over, but since you didn't pick up..” There was a muted noise in the background, and Arthur shouting a quick 'in a minute, mum!', before the breathing returned firmly inside the scratchy recording. “I don't know. If you get this, call back.” His voice hitched vividly, Conner's muscles rippling with impatience as the silence made him imagine that Arthur was quickly regretting his decision to leave the message. Or call in the first place.

“Or don't. You don't have to call back.” A soft cough, that descended into weaker than usual guffaws for breath. He was anxious, and his body did the usual response of forcing chuckles through that thin throat of his. “... Okay bye.” 

And just like that, with a way too uncomfortably long 'beep' following, the recording was over, and Conner was left staring into the air, thoughts racing at a hundredth miles an hour. 

Rather than call, he wanted to put back on his jacket, and race the circa half hour it would take to get to his apartment, depending on train schedule and delay, and just.. Wrap his arms around that spindly and yet somehow adorable fucker. 

His lips twitched. No, he had to play this carefully. Let Arthur take the reigns, and guide them, however slow. Just so he didn't scare him away, like a deer noticing the hunter's rifle, soon cascading through the forest to a place of safety. 

“...” He had picked up the phone, the tangled line wiggling in the air, as every press of number pad made his heart beat just that bit faster. He was excited, having almost forgotten the sour taste of the earlier family dinner, as he waited for the tune to play out.

He only hoped Arthur was still awake and present, able to take the call.

“.. Hello?”

_Halle-fucking-lujah to me._

“Arthur? It's Conner.” He mused, trying not to fist-pump the air, like some hormonal teen seeing boobs for the first time.

“O-oh. Oh.” He seemed shocked, his voice a bit rough, but sounding lighter than last time. He liked the gentle bubbles that settled within the shy noise. It was quite pleasant. “You called back.” 

Conner almost laughed at that, but kept to a slight crooked smile, his voice losing its edge with every breath. “Yeah. Sorry about that. Was visiting the family.” He shifted, feeling odd about explaining his late reply to the message. But it hadn't felt right not too, either.

“Oh. Well, I hope it went well.” Arthur complemented, clearly unsure how to proceed. His breath doing its familiar hitch of uncertainty and hesitation.

So cute.

“Well..” Conner's smile faded slightly, but he tried to keep it out of his voice. The sour taste had grown stronger again. “What's up, Arthy?” He didn't notice his own slip of tongue, letting his mind slide in the nickname. “You said you wanted to..” He stumbled a bit, trying to hide his excitement. “Come over?”

“... Yes. I did.” A soft noise stirred from the other end, one Conner couldn't quite put his finger on. “Is that alright?” He mused, clearly seeking approval, which made Conner smile just a tad larger. 

“Of course.” 

Conner proceeded to give Arthur his address, soon cleaning up the ratty apartment of his, anticipation choking him at every step. He almost forgot to put away the gay porn mag half-sprawled next to the couch, but managed to remember just in time for Arthur to arrive with a gentle few knocks on the door.

“Be right there!” He voiced out loudly, quickly sliding shut the shelf near his bed, hiding his dirty little secret from the world- and in turn, Arthur. 

“Hi.” Conner mused once the door was open, a step aside letting the other man know it was safe to enter, a flicker lingering on his lips. He couldn't quite contain the excitement of having Arthur in his home, when hope had seemed lost, not long ago. 

They both settled on the couch, Conner's leg bouncing gently while Arthur seemed to be fixating on his lap, and the way his spindly fingers twitched atop it. It made his skin vibrate with a strong feeling of irate, his throat bubbling until it slipped free a sharp cough, meant to extract some sort of progress into their situation. 

Being quiet and just staring into the air had never been his strong suit. It made him feel weird, as if watching the world grow cold, while he was barely able to contain the heat of his own heart.

“I.. Have a performance tomorrow night. At Pogo's Comedy Club.” Arthur began, finally ridding the living room of the delusion of silent dread. It stirred a curiosity from Conner, who was now staring curiously at the other man, not quite able to stop the little tilt of his head that made his silhouette almost bird-like and ruffled.

“Really? I thought you worked as a clown.” He mused, only just now realizing that Arthur had never answered the blurted out question from their phone chat that one evening. “You're a comedian, then?” He continued, a soft hum resting on his lungs, as he gave a gentle nod. 

For some reason, he liked that idea more, than the clown one. Arthur slipping out jokes, making the crowd vibrate with the same kind of gentle air, as Arthur's body let roll off him subconsciously. It made a genuine smile tug at the corners of his lips, a fingertip tracing a lip against the bottom one. 

“Yeah.. Got a notebook full of jokes. Finally decided to give it a go.” 

“So can I hear one?”

Arthur's head snapped towards Conner, surprise pushing the green eyes wide, lips pursing with careful disbelief and hope. “You want to?”

It made Conner's brow arch, letting Arthur know silently that of course. He even let his expression rest in a manner, that was an obvious attempt at fake offense. It made Arthur breathe a sigh of relief, his hand fluttering to pat his skinny shape, only to have his expression fall flat as he realized.

“... It's back home.” His voice croaked, sounding fragile enough to crumble at the slightest breeze. “Sorry.”

This made Conner lean closer just a smudge, fingers clutching the fabric of the couch just behind Arthur, gaze gaining a new form of strength. He had seen a glimpse of a joyous Arthur, and there was no way in hell he was letting it fade that soon. “Don't know any by heart?” He prodded, watching a soft trickle of goosebumps ride along Arthur's neck.

_What a nice reaction. I wanna see more._

“O- oh. Of course. Yeah, I do. Okay okay.” Arthur seemed to need a second to brace himself, his body oozing chaotic anxiety and excitement. It was like he was a ball of energy, barely contained within himself, seconds away from bursting with the raw power of a super nova. 

With a sudden steel in Arthur's whole expression of body and mind, he started.

“So a man is walking a young boy through the woods. The boy says;” Arthur's voice took a higher-pitch notion, horribly trying to imitate the note of a young boy. It was almost funny enough in itself. “Hey mister, it's getting dark out and I'm scared.” 

Conner tilted his head, genuinely curious where this was going, as he waited for Arthur to continue. The other man was casting quick glances to him, clearly making sure that he was being heard, and not dismissed mid-joke. His voice quickly shifted to a now deeper tone, which somehow suited Arthur quite nicely. Much more than the previous one, at least.

“How do you think I feel? I have to walk back alone.”

Conner blinked once. Twice. Three times. 

Arthur flinched back when Conner's brain had properly connected the dots, his head twisted back as an earnest laughter bombarded through his throat, hand quickly pressed to his lips to try and thwart the loud cackles. His shoulders shook, eyes squinted together, trying to let the ruffles of his amusement soothe – which, when it finally did, let him notice the amazing smile that Arthur was throwing his way.

The pride in his eyes, glinting with the force of a thousand suns, and the genuine appreciation tugging the man's lips. It was all so god damn beautiful, and it quickly snuffed the residing chuckles from Conner's throat, as he stared back into those intense mossy eyes of Arthur's.

“Okay, that was pretty funny, Arthy. Even if it is a bit.” He smacked his lips, trying to settle the itch in his fingers, that wanted to climb from the couch's back to Arthur's neck for a gentle touch. Continuing his notion. “Morbid.” 

Arthur gave nothing more than a shrug, almost as if he didn't really mind that fact. Or just, didn't understand it. Conner wasn't certain which one was truer, but in this moment, he was too focused on the unorthodox grace that settled along the heavy lines of the other man's face. 

“So uh-” Arthur's voice was choked back into its throaty cage by the silent trail of fingertips sliding down his shoulder. It caused the man to stare in confusion and worried expectation, wondering if he was about to be punched.

But nothing more came of it, the silent buzz of the air quickly fading, as Conner's fingertips left him alone once more. Never conceding the fact they had ever even been there. For a while, Arthur would be left to wonder if it had been an odd ploy of his imagination. 

“Want anything to drink?” Conner spoke out loud, suddenly being on his way towards the kitchen, leaving Arthur to stare towards his back with a dazed shudder. 

Inwardly, Conner was cursing himself, distracting his fingers with the potential of brewing a somewhat tolerable cup of coffee. He had slipped for just a second, and had almost pushed Arthur down, wanting to see if he could force out some new reactions from the meek man. 

“Uh.. Sure.” It came from across the room, Conner giving a curt nod as he plucked out a second mug onto the table, waiting for the machine to finish it painfully loud brewing, the gritty tune making his muscles tense every so often. 

“So when's the show?” Conner hurled into the air, trying to lift the blurry sense of reality they had found themselves in, not yet looking at Arthur for his reaction. He couldn't risk his libido getting hold of him like that again. Not so soon, anyway.

“Oh. At eight.” The voice gained a bit more strength, letting Conner into a sense of relief that the other man had finally pushed past the initial shock. “I was hoping you'd be there. Sophie will be there too.” 

Conner's brain came to a halt, and with a giant amount of distressed hope, he somehow managed to ask in a strained voice; “Who's Sophie?” 

“My g-girlfriend.” He sounded so genuinely happy. It cut Conner right in half.

“Oh.” 

The silence was heavy beneath the still filling noise of dripping coffee, Conner noting the way his knuckles were turning white under the strain of increasingly tightening fists against the table surface. He knew it was stupid, but his body was slowly being consumed with a petty anger, directed mostly at his own stupidity.

_Of course he has a girlfriend. Fuck._

“Good for you, Arthur.” He snipped, trying to sound way less affected than he was feeling, blood rushing to his ears as he tried to steady himself with a few short breaths. “Is she cute?”   
Shit. He really hadn't fully been able to hide the notion of accusation in his voice that time.

“She's absolutely beautiful. Kind.” Arthur seemed lost in his own happy little world of memories, recounting every thought that had hit him, throughout his time with this 'Sophie' woman. “Single mother, too. Really nice kid.” 

Conner flinched, a slight sour taste of guilt building at the back of his tongue as he watched the black liquid fill each cup slowly. Steam rising to lick at his skin and force sweat to slowly build at the edge of his upper lip. “You sound happy.” It took everything he had not to let petty anger curl into the coming words.

“I'm happy for you, Arthur. You deserve a slice of the good pie.” 

He moved over, offering Arthur one of the cups, as he settled on the couch once more; this time with a slightly bigger distance, a subtle display of needing to keep space, so he didn't lapse and do the very thing he had apologized for earlier.

“Thank you, Conner.” The other man mused with a soft curl of lips, clearly not noticing the strained lines of Conner's body and voice. He seemed too deep in his own mental joy to do so, and it genuinely ripped at Conner's nerves, like a cheese grater to the flesh. 

“So.. Have you done the deed yet?” He mused, failing spectacularly in his attempt to sound casual about it. His eyes spoke the most; he just wanted to fall deeper into his crushed hope, so he could force himself to accept the loss and just be happy with having a friend. 

“I don't understand.” 

“Sex, Arthy.” Conner would have smiled if not for his current annoyance, as Arthur's expression quickly deep-dived into a state of shocked embarrassment. The roll of stuttering chuckles wrapped in emotion almost made him slip into his own noise of amusement, but instead he just settled for a teasing gaze into the other man's now wide and unsettled greens. “So, you got there yet?” 

Arthur seemingly couldn't get past a few syllables before it'd drown itself in his uncomfortable laughter, his face quickly turning a beautiful shade of rose, chest heaving in short stutters with clear chaos in his energy. Even his leg had begun to bounce in an effort to rid his body of the sudden surge of adrenaline and emotion. 

Conner slowly began to arch a brow, his stare growing a bit more suspicious, as he couldn't fight off the need to lean closer with a sudden intent drawl of voice. “... Arthur.. You have done it before, right?” Something about the way Arthur reacted had gone way beyond simple timid musing, and into a zone of dangerously virgin-like mannerism.

“.. Holy shit.” Conner whispered breathlessly, this time being his turn to stare in utter disbelief. The way Arthur leaned away with his forced chuckles growing stronger, well, it was all he needed to understand. It made Conner's chest tighten into a sudden fist of emotion he couldn't quite place, as his mind forced him into a place of blurry thought, raspy voice taking on a sudden dark hue.

“You're a virgin.” This time it wasn't a question. It was an objective observation. 

Arthur slowly conceded with a nod between the guffaws of breaths he was taking, the other man reeling from the lack of air due to his condition's sudden outburst. It made Conner's whole body tense up for a new reason, fingers reaching out, until they had a firm hold of Arthur's jaw- turning his face until they stared at each other, both of them in a state of disarray, although for different reasons.

It took a few seconds before Conner could take back the wheel of the conversation, as Arthur fumbled to light himself a smoke, the flicker of sparks from the lighter only intensifying the shamed expression across the other man's aged skin. 

_Beautiful._

“Have you kissed her yet? Or.. Anyone?” He muttered, the voice somehow both gentle and demanding at the same time, like a whisper of the wraith along a moonlit graveyard's path. “Be honest with me.” He pressed once Arthur looked hesitant to respond, as if mulling over the idea of just lying.

A few seconds passed, their breaths and the cigarette smoke mingling carelessly in the air, until Arthur responded with a voice that almost threatened to break in half.

“Yeah. I did.” A spark of something grand hid beneath the greens that swerved dangerously within themselves in the modest lit room. The scent of smoke and oak tickling their noses teasingly. “Not long ago.”

“Ah.” He quickly stifled the need to groan out his petty jealousy. “That's good. How'd it feel?”

Arthur seemed like a calm wave among the thunderous bolts of emotional thunder, his smile lopsided and genuine, as if he was both recalling the sweetest kiss, and the most delirious kill. 

Of course, he was, but Conner wouldn't know that until much, much later.

“It was.. Liberating.” 

Conner cocked a brow, easily portraying what he felt. Confusion.

“Really?”

“Yes.” Arthur took a last puff of his smoke, leaving it crushed against the ashtray on the wooden table. “It's the only word that fits.” A soft string of joy slipped his lungs, leaving a scent of deeper meaning in the air. Conner didn't try to understand, but rather, offered a slight nod. Merely accepting the response for what it was.

Genuine.

“So..” Ten minutes of pure silence had passed, and finally it had grated Conner's nerves so raw, he just couldn't hold it in anymore. Not even with the soothing display of Arthur's long-distance expression of melancholy and untold delights. 

“I- I should go back. Check on mum.” It came from Arthur, cutting Conner's words before they had even really began. The man shifted towards the hallway, stirring like a rustled leaf in the wind, casting odd glances that couldn't be properly deciphered.

“Oh, sure, right.” He muttered in response, moving to unlock the door and pull it open. Just as Arthur stepped out, he grabbed his elbow, gaining the attention of the other man with ease. “.. Want me to go with you? It's dangerous in this city. Especially this late.” 

_Nice excuse, idiot. You just want more time with him._

“Oh, no.” Arthur began, tucking his arm away until it slid from Conner's fingers. A slight tremble in his voice, despite the fire that curled in his green eyes. “That's quite alright. I'll see you tomorrow.” 

And with that, Arthur slinked away, leaving Conner in a haze of slight worry. What had made his mind suddenly decide to change its behavior towards him? 

It gave him a restless night, not ever really falling into a sleep deep enough to charge his batteries.

** **

_Just a friend. Don't overthink it, Conner. Don't do that to him.. Or yourself. Expectation is killer._

His calloused fingers twitched against the soft fabric of the purple striped suit-jacket, his eyes looking decidedly fierce in the mirror, despite the evidence of bad dreams clinging under them in the shape of dark bags and slightly ripple-like crows feet. 

A palm pressed to the mirror, swiping away the light trace of dusty heat from the earlier shower, giving a clearer image when he spied into its reflective surface. There was a solemn vow in there somewhere, repeating its drawl to his heart, again and again.

_A friend. Just that. Nothing more. Never more._

** **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, Conner is so mega gay for Arthur. It makes me so happy, even if it's a bit wicked, considering they're not going to have an easy time. 
> 
> Lmao.


	4. What The Mind Wants

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's chapter! 
> 
> Hope you enjoy. And thank you guys for the kudos, it warms my little nervous heart. ^^

** **

He could barely keep it together. Arthur was on stage, fulfilling his dream, his laughter bouncing vividly against the dinky walls of the run-down comedy club.. But there was nothing else to reciprocate the joy that painted itself on his strained lips. 

Everyone around were silent, spare a few sharp insults hurled now and then, while Arthur somehow managed to seem.. Oblivious to the scathing live-review of the audience. As if he wasn't completely butchering his own attempt at providing amusement.   
As if he was being applauded, rather than chastised. 

Conner's entire body had not moved an inch since Arthur's time had begun, and only when the lanky man stumbled back out of sight, did he feel a breath seep through his numbed veins. His mind was immediately slammed into a cage of dry pain, nausea settling itself on every inch of his flesh, like miniature rolls of pins and needles. 

A disaster had unfolded before his eyes, and he didn't know how to react. How to go up to Arthur, and not show the extreme discomfort of sympathy that surely wrecked his expression even now while alone and stunned into complete silence. 

“Holy shit.” 

It was an appropriate gasp of exasperation, his fingers twitching with a need to claw themselves into the soft sheets of his bed, and just let his body collapse into itself with mindless exhaustion. But suddenly he felt his entire body grow with an unspoken strength, his legs stretching with every quick step along the murky street, as gaze flickered every which way in their search for that one lanky shape. 

“Arth-” He stopped just a few steps before the man, realizing something was.. Off.

For some reason it felt like he would be breaking a very precarious bubble if he drew Arthur's attention, a sway in the other man's hips and a slight of twitches that spoke volumes. Arthur wasn't really there; not completely. 

He wasn't certain what exactly he was seeing, Arthur chatting into the air, even when the man settled in the diner near one of the big windows. He was talking, gesturing and even seeming genuinely pleased- like a man on a date.

“... But she's not there. She never was.” 

Sophie, the supposed girlfriend, had never shown up. She wasn't there for the show, and there was no sign of her during the walk. And like one might imagine, she wasn't sitting across from the talking Arthur, listening to his streams of thoughts. 

Conner felt his hand clasp itself over his lips as he hunched over, the other hand shooting out to place a steadying palm against the nearby wall. He felt a sudden powerful rush of empathy, in the shape of nausea pushing for him to vomit right then and there, his limbs shaking with exquisite tremors. 

He couldn't do this. Couldn't make himself rip Arthur out of his fantasy- out of his carefully stacked dream for a happy life, a real relationship. 

So instead he took a few breaths, making sure he didn't splatter the remains of his earlier meal on the ground, and went home. Every second of the next few hours haphazard and complicated.

Sadness gripped its hands around his throat and refused to let go.

** **

Conner woke up in a cold sweat, gaze flicking wildly across the dark room, unable to steady his heart and mind as he asked; _Who am I._

A few blinks passed by, silence encompassing his entire being, throat caught in its own attempt at breathing. Struggling, clawing, he wasn't certain he'd get back to the surface of reality until a sudden stroke of light passed his window, forcefully dragging him back to stability. 

“Right.. Bad dreams.” He murmured, the balls of his palms pressing to his eyes, the slight pain and white spots produced helping him out. Steadying him back to a somewhat respectable state of mind. He knew that going off the pills were going to suck, but he had all but forgotten the terrorizing dreams, or nightmares, that followed his 'clean' status. 

“Shit.. I need coffee.” 

With a rough grumble, he peeled himself away from the damp sheet beneath, barely keeping himself upright with every step towards the kitchen. Squinting, he noted the time. 

_Four in the god damn morning. Just my luck._

He waited for the brown addiction to finish brewing with a heavy rasp on his tongue, gaze climbing across his apartment with a contemplative humdrum. His arms still carried goosebumps left from the blurry dream already slipping his memory, fingertips drumming a silent tune against his lips. 

_Arthur's girlfriend was a lie of his own mind.._

A putrid drawl of an inner voice kept silent for the last few days crept through, sending a river of discomfort through his spine. Shit.

_And you think that matters? Doesn't mean shit, you lunatic. He'll keep to his weird little fantasy and leave you in this dusty ass apartment, needy and self-destructive._

Conner gritted his teeth, forcing himself to take a sip of the steaming cup of liquid energy, despite the fact he knew it would sizzle the roof of his mouth – leave a sharp pang of burning ache. He hoped it would send away the voice that plagued him. 

Sadly, it would seem that the few days of rest the voice had given him, meant it was all too willing to stay for good this time with its disgusting hisses and painful verbal aggression. 

_I'm part of you, numskull. I'm never really gone. Not even when you wank it._

“Aw shit. I'm really losing it.” He groaned, planting his slightly damp forehead to the delightfully cool surface of the kitchen counter, eyes squeezed together in an effort to drive his own sense of madness away. 

_Saying it like you had a grasp on anything in the first place. Pfth._

“Fuck this. I'm not dealing with my own head bitching at me.” 

Shifting, he crashed onto the nearby couch, soon blasting the standard reruns always playing this time of night. Half an hour in, pleasantly buried in a sense of procrastinate boredom, he fell asleep once more. This time without the horrors of bad images and painful noises interrupting his time of bodily and mental recharge.

Just before he fell into the silent grasp of exhaustion, however, he made a silent vow to himself.

_Gotta call Arthur later. Lend him my support, even if it means playing along with his.._

_Lies. Delusions. Whatever it's called._

** **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we're at the point where everything starts to spiral. 
> 
> If you know the movie, which I'd hope so cus spoilers lmao, then.. Yeah. Shit about to hit the fan. Hard.
> 
> Cheers!
> 
> /Also yes, this chapter is a bit shorter than usual. But I felt it was necessary.


	5. When Hands Become Idle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Later than expected, apologies! 
> 
> BUT. This chapter only has mentions of Arthur, but I PROMISE to make up for it with the next. It'll be a very important milestone for the two messed up birdies.
> 
> Also, violence and mentions of vomit is in this chapter. So if you're uncomfortable with that.. Then well. Don't read this chapter. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! //Also, next chapter will be posted later tonight. I'm already working on it. (;

Okay, so he was slightly stressed out. With every tap of the phone keys, he found himself holding his breath, until the noise lined in the all-too-crushing tell of abstinence. Arthur was either not at home, which made Conner wonder if he was at work or stalking his crush, or he simply.. Didn't want to pick up the phone. 

It worried him all too much, the flimsy notion that perhaps Arthur had realized his show had not been received well, and it left his fingers to scratch raw pink lines along his elbow. He was a mess by the fifth failed attempt, crushing the innocent phone under his trembling hand, gaze fixating on the scratched beige colors. 

_Can't keep this up, dumdum. You have work, and need the cash. Get going already._

Conner didn't reply to his own inner voice, simply moving for his key and hurrying out the door in a simple tee, loose slacks and with chaotic curls at the top of his head. He felt like shit, but like any other adult, there were responsibilities needing tending. Even if he hated that part of reality.

** **

Later that day, the skies threatening a darker time as night began to creep forth, he was feeling especially uptight. One hell of a big man was shouting in his face, complaining about something that seemed all to unimportant in the toes of Conner's own worries. 

Usually he would just bite his lip 'till it shredded, keep at bay the dark beast rattling in its cage, but everything was just too much- no pills, no reprieve, no Arthur. 

It wasn't until he felt the sudden burn of skinned knuckles that he realized that everyone around him were suddenly shouting. But yet he couldn't stop. One punch turned into five more, the raw pain growing stronger across his fist.   
He didn't even know that a relieved smile had come to play on his lips, even as he stumbled out the back door of his, now former, workplace. There was no way he hadn't been fired- hell, it'd be a wonder if the cops didn't bang on his door later, taking him in for suddenly unleashing blood and fury on a prissy customer. 

His back hit the wall of a random alley, his breath uneven and strained, eyes squinting to try and refocus his mind on the current reality. He had come undone, like a frayed knot, and his entire body was like a single exposed nerve – prickly and uncomfortable. 

_Should have savored it more, idiot. It was glorious, and you just had to drift away. What a damn pity._

He felt a growl rumble through his stinging throat, lungs expanding after a few moments as he peeled himself off the wall, moving for the closest bar. He needed a fucking drink.

Or twenty.

** **

He was going down on the seventh beer when he heard it. A rumble of arrogant laughter subsiding into a snide remark thrown at a random loner at a table, one that somehow reminded Conner of Arthur. Not that they looked alike; it was just the slight flicker of submissive repression on the man's shoulders. It felt. Familiar to look at.

“Hey, faggot, you deaf or something?” 

Conner didn't need to know what the conversation was about to fly off his chair, making it rattle loudly onto the floor, as he pushed himself to stride, quite wobbly, towards the table of two times asshole.   
He didn't speak, knowing his entire system was too flushed with alcohol to sound even vaguely superior, his fists curling into battle-readiness for the second time that night. Lips curled back in a very telling expression of distaste. 

The shy man one table over seemed shocked still, like a deer looking straight into the headlights of an oncoming car. Into death itself, ready to chew him up. It sent another prickle of sour familiarity down Conner's spine. 

He didn't even take notice of the rest of the bar, staring in cold silence and holding anticipating breaths.

“What? You his girlfrien-” 

The arrogant prick didn't get any further than that before a fist threatened to rearrange his pearly whites, the tense wait bursting into a hot-red flare of shouts and shoves. Conner never felt more alive than when he flailed every limb, wrestling the two men at once, nerves sparking with dangerous outlets of pain and pleasure.

He shouldn't have enjoyed the fight, the blood splattering everywhere and mixing with hot vapid breaths, but he did. The dark beast had broken out of its cage once again, wallowing in the misery and adrenaline, claws and teeth happily tearing apart the bodies ahead. 

He even felt a sting of pride as a single broken tooth flew across his sight, one of the opposite men squealing like a cut pig beneath his hammer-like fists coated in crimson juices. 

“Shit!” Conner hissed when the sudden ring of distant police sirens blared into his body, making him jump to a scramble, fighting to get out to the alleyways in an effort to run and hide. His legs were barely holding him up, the new black eye stinging uncomfortably as it was beginning to swell into proper evidence.

He wasn't sure how far he had gotten when his body suddenly slammed its side to a murky wall, his stomach flipping itself until the contents of his sorrowful drinking had been expunged from every inch of it. 

Fuck, he felt like he'd gotten smacked in the brain with a taser, disorientation making the colors before his eyes seem blurry and distant. Breath still caught tight in his throat, a heavy burn lingering across his lungs and shaking limbs. 

And yet his inner beast was swelling with delight, drawling a tune of victory and joy, relishing the freedom as it had yet to be dragged back into its cage. And in this moment, as Conner stood shaken, beaten and ashamed of the colorful vomit near his feet, he wasn't certain he'd ever manage to wrestle it back. 

He felt stronger than the superheroes in cartoons. Yet also weaker than a crippled newborn in a wolfs hungry maw.

“Shit.” He repeated, coughs wrecking his body as he resumed his walk along the dirty, garbage-riddled streets of Gotham's night life. 

** **

He didn't even realize where he was going until Arthur's apartment building was staring back at him, ugly and dented, yet a comforting presence to his wounded heart. With a slow inhale of icy air, feeling his ragged nerves twisting into themselves with anxiety not yet relieved, he let his body find its way to Arthur's door- every step still shaky, but better than before, thanks to the forced exhale of alcohol now splayed against a random alleyway's wall.

_Go ahead. Knock and let him see how shit you are. Might just make him feel better, knowing that you are a fucking mess. Maybe he'll even laugh at you. That'd be one for the ages- laughing at you, not in fear of you. Hah._

And so he did, shaking away the painful snarls of his other voice. But as silence was his only companion after the first ten knocks, he decided to muster up courage as a random neighbor passed- head bobbing as he turned just a little too fast for his still-inebriated system.

“D-do yeh knoaw where Arthur is?” 

His speech was only lightly slurred, thank gods, a fingertip pressed to the door once the neighbor squinted with confusion. The young man shrugged in annoyance, then realized, giving a tight nod. Keeping a distance from the beer-and-vomit smelling Conner. 

“Yeah, yeah. The woman, his mother?, was taken to the hospital earlier. Collapsed, apparently.” 

Before Conner could further press questions on the man, he was gone, leaving Conner to stir on the news. He didn't even know how many times he had held his breath this day, but it wasn't a new sensation anymore, limbs suddenly a lot more unsteady as he moved back outside. 

He was about to convince himself to just go home, when the other voice roared suddenly, a devil's silver tongue licking against his sore brain with intent. 

_You should visit him, Coooonnner._

He instantly knew this was bad. The voice wasn't using insults this time. Shit. Shitshitshit.

_He'll appreciate iiiit, you know? A friend at his side, even if you're a bit.. Ruffled._

Conner felt a cold hand grasp his spine, shaking him until he was moving towards the hospital, each step faster than the other. He felt like a puppet, present but powerless. Manipulated.

_Be the shoulder he can cryyyy on. Tears and hugs. Hugs and teeaaaaarssssss...._

The voice laughed and the beast smiled. 

Merged into a single entity.

Conner was scared and excited by the realization.

** **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Again, sorry for lack of Arthur, but.. Well.
> 
> Let's just say I'll make it up to you, with the next one. It'll be heavy, though, so if you expect the fanfic to get any softer.. Well, don't. 
> 
> Thanks again for the kudos. <3 I appreciate it way more than I can ever express. 
> 
> Cheers!


	6. The Devil Plays With Them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter of the day, delivered to the lovelies of this site! 
> 
> Also AHHHH. I really hope you like this one, as we take a dive into this one.  
> Especially the end will, hopefully, stir some real feels for you- as it did me. Was hard to write, but necessary. 
> 
> Enjoy! /Warning for mention of vomiting, and.. A burn. 
> 
> PS: Since this and the last chapter kinda hooks together, I decided to split their titles in two. It's a reference to an old saying; The Devil Makes Work for Idle Hands.  
> Just felt.. Fitting.)

** **

It was a stroke of luck, or perhaps misfortune, that Conner neared one of the hospital's entrances to find Arthur on a nearby bench, although, something was clearly wrong.

_Besides his mother's unfooooortunate collapse? My oh my. Little Arthy never could catch a break._

He swatted at the air, as if the voice was but an annoying fly buzzing about, gaze narrowing as shaky limbs stilled to a halt. The walk, the cold air and the time had given his body some of its strength back, although it was surely a very loose notion of it. 

There were two men standing by Arthur, clearly talking to him, making the usually awkward man express a sense of.. Anger? No. _Mockery._  
The emotion suited Arthur, in a weird sense. The way it made lines curve around his eyes and mouth.

“I mean.. Is it part of your act?” 

Conner already hated one of the two men, fists curling painfully, reminding him of the scratches burrowed into the flesh of his knuckles. Shit.

Arthur's response pulled him out of it soon, though, and then the short moment of surprise once the tall man smacked right into the exit door. If the whole situation hadn't been so fucked up, Conner could have laughed. It looked so incredibly dumb, considering everything.

Once Arthur was gone, Conner finally wrestled himself back to reality, moving to stand near the two assholes that had engaged Arthur- riled him up in a way that made Conner feel.. Protective.

_Possessive, you mean. I can feel the jealousy beneath the heaps of self-loathing, you waste of hair._

He twitched slightly. The beast was getting a bit too confident in its newfound freedom. “Hey. You know whar- Why Arthur's mum c-collapsed?” His speech was still being testy, scratched and sore as the acids from the earlier hour had began to gnaw the flesh raw. 

The two men turned with clear suspicion, and a quick step backwards, probably trying to escape the damp odor rolling off Conner's weakened state. The fat one lifted a hand, pinching his nose, clearly unworried about seeming rude. Not that Conner could really blame him.

God, he stank worse than a two-dollar whorehouse during sweaty summer holidays. 

“A stroke- I'm sorry, are you a relative of Arthur's?” The skinny one questioned, face scrunched up in ways Conner couldn't even try to describe. Not without using a few choice curse words that'd only go so far as to ruin an already shitty night. 

“N- ye..s. I'm a friend of his.” He shifted, palm rubbing into the swelled flesh of his eye, gaining the hollow sympathy of the two men before him. 

This time the fat one spoke up; “Oh, didn't know the guy _had_ friends.” The man squared a bit at the sudden glare from Conner's one unharmed eye. “Say, you look pretty rough there, fellow. What's your name?” Both men now squinted in an almost choreographed manner. Yeah, Conner could tell they were cops. No fucking doubt about it. “You get in a brawl?”

Conner sighed, half-gaze shifting occasionally to the exit Arthur had snaked through, cursing at his curiosity which was now keeping him from visiting his... Friend.

“Fell down some stairs, I'm fine.” He gritted, though soon continued as he noticed the obvious disbelief. “Twice. Two right feet, what can I say?” Palm pressed a bit tighter to the wounded eye, shut close thanks to the swelling. It hurt like hell to touch it, but helped clear his mind through the lingering alcohol haze. 

The skinny man shook out a reply, eyes rolling so hard Conner wondered if they were just one inch from popping right out that pretty boy's skull. “Whatever you say, but we have some questions for you concerning Arthur.” This got the attention of Conner, his lips drawing back in a snarl before he could stop it. Damn fight-or-flight instincts were on a high this night. “About the subway killings- You've heard of them, I suspect?” 

This got Conner to stare in his own sense of disbelief, mouth agape as his mind churned to recall the rumors and little news snippets he had caught. “Uh, sure, yeah. How the fuck am I supposed not to? It's all over the damn news.” His voice had gained a bit more fervor, stature growing into a little more comfort of power. 

The haze was starting to finally let its grip go.

“Well, as you might know then, it was committed by a man wearing some sort of clown mask. And since Arthur worked as a clown, before he got fired-” The fat one had begun, only to be cut off by Conner's surprised high-pitch.

“Wait, he got fired? When?” 

This caused the men to look at each other in consideration, before returning their hard-pounding stares. “I thought you'd know, since you're his.. Friend. He was fired on the same day as the murders.” The skinny man wafted a hand, huffing annoyed, as if he just wanted to go home already and smoke a bag of weed. 

_He should. Might help smooth out those ugly lines on his face- oh wait, that IS his face._

Conner rubbed the bridge of his nose. The tall man continued uninterrupted. “Boss told us he was fired for bringing a gun to a children's hospital. Arthur said it was because he wasn't 'funny enough'.” Both men tilted their heads, the synchronized movement starting to freak Conner out honestly, as they mulled over the information one more time. “But we can talk later about that.. For now, how about we assist you home? We can get your contact information, and you can sleep off the beers.. I don't think they'll let you in there, smelling and looking like.. That.” The fat man gave a nod, as the skinny one waved an displaying hand, clearly noting Conner's rugged stench and appearance. 

“Hah, no thanks, copper.” He spitted a bit too aggressively, his inner beast once more flexing its claws, ready for round three. But no, he thought, patting his chest with a deep breath. Not again- especially not now.

And apparently, that one breath is all he needed, for his stomach to do its second flip of the night.

In light details, Conner puked on the skinny man's shoes, residue and acids making all three grunt in exasperation. Yeah, tonight was not a good one. Jesus Christ. 

So this time there was no fighting them, when they demanded to drive Conner home, his name and address given- and that, funny that, he had been fired this night. They just might have been sympathetic, if he hadn't just colored stomach contents all over their shoes and pants. 

With a tumble, he arrived inside his home, dazed and exhausted. His beast was retreating with an annoyed huff, unsatisfied somehow, as he fell into a nightmare riddled sleep.

Unaware of the trouble stewing in Arthur's life, besides Penny's sudden stroke.

** **

It was a miracle that Conner was out of the bed by late-afternoon, a headache throbbing tight just below his temples. His eye was still swollen to all hell, blue and pink, and his knuckles were scabbed over with gross yellow crisps. He looked awful, having frowned at the sight in the mirror before he had left, and now he was looking like an idiot, knocking on the door to Arthur's apartment with a heavy grumble of stomach.

He couldn't get anything down earlier, nausea hitting him just at the mere smell of solid foods, though now he regretted it. Standing there, waiting, was painful enough without the constant ache of an empty belly after one wild hangover-riddling night.

“Ye- Oh, it's you.” Arthur was staring wide, door half open, slim fingers curled along the edge. He was clearly taken aback, and it caused a lop-sided grin to settle on Conner's lips. He nodded, gave an apologetic hum while pushing past his still shocked-silent 'friend', before planting himself at one end of the ugly couch. 

“Sorry, Arthur, just.. I had a rough night. Got fired. Got drunk. Got stupid.” He let the back of his hand rest as a cooling surface to his wounded eye, the other watching Arthur hesitantly close the door and shuffle to his own seat, at the other end, hands constantly rubbing over each other. A nervous tic, perhaps.

“... But I heard you had it worse. How's your mother doing?” His brow had cocked in question, voice clear with intent to leave his own suffering into the unknown besides what had been said. 

“Oh- Oh she's recovering. Needs lots of rest.” Arthur almost seemed to melt away, give face to a certain melancholic dread, as his eyes faded into a half-hooded gaze towards the still running television. Conner didn't notice, however, that Arthur flinched every time Thomas Wayne showed up on the buzzing screen. 

“Oh, well, I hope she recovers soon..” He murmured softly, though his voice betrayed the sympathy he knew he was supposed to feel. It only made his heart tug with guilt, as he failed to conjure up the necessary empathy. 

“... Hey, how did you like my comedy show the other day?” Arthur suddenly spurred, his eyes still far away in a land of misery and thought, making Conner twitch with a sudden uncertainty, teeth drawing the sharp taste of blood from his lower lip.

_Admit that you thought it went terribly. Kick the guy while he's down. You've always been good at that._

He took a heavy breath, both men slowly scrambling for the catharsis of cigarette smoke, before finally settling to reply- the lit stick wiggling comfortably between two fingers mid-air. “It was.. Enlightening.” He shifted, still uncomfortable at the idea of lying, but at least a half-truth wouldn't feel too bad... But he realized Arthur didn't accept such a vague reply this time, the other man's dreadful gaze gripping his neck in a tight hold until he explained further. 

“.... It was good, Arthur.” 

He barely got Arthur's name out from his lips before he suddenly felt the tug of a strong hand at his wrist, one good eye opening into a teacup saucer, the new sizzling noise and roasting scent attacking his senses with full force. The pain spiking with incredible speed. 

And yet none of it captured his attention quite like Arthur's face, pressed mere inches from his own, the scowl of full-scale contempt and mockery leaving his lips to rustle free a sardonic laughter, bubbly and threatening. Like a field of roses hiding an array of razor blades. 

“You fucking liar.” 

He had never heard that voice before- it certainly didn't belong to the man before him. Not according to his own range of memories. Not even in Arthur's darkest hour at the hands of the adolescent asshole that had been Conner and his insecurities.

His gaze flickered downwards, to the still captured wrist, as Arthur had begun to slowly grind the still lit tip of his smoke against his burning flesh. Fuck, it hurt so much, and yet he could only manage a whimpering rasp and a few tears threatening to spill from the one good eye's lower lid. 

When he looked back into the deep browns of Arthur's, he still only found contempt and hatred, despite the.. The fucking smile that would haunt Conner's nightmares for the next few years. If he hadn't been cut from his therapist by the lacking funding, he would for sure have needed to up the visitation by a few handful days.  
Even his inner beast had been quieted into a submissive crouch. Claws retracted, fangs hidden.

Arthur moved his free hand after flicking the crushed bud into the nearby ashtray, finger pressing so hard against the remote volume key, that it made it a quiet noise of agony. Soon, Conner noticed the show, a rerun from last night, containing Murray Franklin.

And then, it all made sense.

Murray fucking Franklin showed the clips, made fun of Arthur, and clearly just didn't give one shit about holding back- it was such pure mockery of Arthur's genuine attempt, and like a hammer to the face.

_You lied to him. Murray mocked him. His mother basically abandoned him._

_No fucking wonder he's hurting you._

“Arth...ur..” He gasped out between held breaths of disbelief and mental anguish, fingers twitching even as he forced himself to ignore the stinging heat left from the fresh wound. “I'm..” 

Arthur interrupted him, his voice low and sinister, like a snake furious after losing its prey during a moment of starved delirium. It was so cold, so distant and yet clear-cut, that a genuine shiver coursed through Conner's veins; made him release an unintended gasp for relief once his own gaze stuck to Arthur's stare of unbridled madness. 

“What. You're sorry?” 

Wow, an invisible yet very potent slap to his already hurting cheek. But he forced himself to continue, the beast slowly getting a bit braver, lifting itself from the submissive roll onto its back.

“... I didn't know how to tell you. I didn't.. Want to hurt you.” 

A new hiss of mocking chuckles slipped Arthur, his hand wrestled free of the now softly bruising wrist, hands carving thick patchs through the unruly dark curls. Clearly he was distressed, leg bouncing and smoke wobbling between gritted teeth. “Yeah, well, I fucking know now, don't I?”

A sudden shaky breath made Conner snap his gaze to the man's expression, and he was left floored, this time by the sneaking flashes of vulnerability in the other man's eyes. They were still hard, and wild, but.. Softened, even if by only the lightest tint. “I made them laugh.. But not with me.” 

Conner grasped at the hem of his shirt, his whole body unable to control its slowly increasing trembles, as he watched the man before him crumble with slow, painful steps. The boulder of nihilistic fire turning into a rubble of melted ice.

“At me. They're all laughing at me.” Arthur's voice broke in half, hand stuck in the unruly hair, eyes now unapologetically swelled with tears climbing down wrinkled skin, painting lines next to his shaky lips. 

Conner wrapped his arms around the other man, not moving back even as Arthur's sobs turned into a wild rumble between distressed laughter and genuine whimpers of depression. He only held him tighter, face squinted shut, his voice just as upset as the trembles shared between them.

Two nerves, exposed and tortured, melting into one.

“No, Arthur. I'm not.” He whispered, his voice the last thing to settle in the air, besides the continued rustles of movement and continually wobbly pitches of sobs and chuckles.

_Not anymore._

**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoooooo boy.
> 
> Let me know what you guys think so far! Did the little heart tug, or did I fail in my attempt at conjuring feelings into your soul? 
> 
> Either way, hope you've enjoyed, and will stay around for the coming chapters!
> 
> Cheers. <3


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